Chosen One
by Soggy Phoenix
Summary: Rodimus Prime knows he's not good enough to bear the Matrix, and he reflects on who he was and what he had, and looks at what he has now.


**Chosen One**

**A/N: I don't own Transformers or the angsty Rodimus. So there.**

Was it so horrible to hate Optimus Prime, to hate Primus, and to hate Ultra Magnus? He did, with all of his spark, though he would never admit nor show it. He wasn't the leader, so why did the Matrix mock him and chose him over Ultra Magnus? The slagged co-creation of Optimus could not be beat, ever. He was honorable, he was just, and he was practically the same as Optimus.

So why wasn't Ultra Magnus the Prime? He was more suited for it. He had been /chosen/ for it. Optimus Prime had handed the Matrix to Magnus... But why? Why do that if he knew that someone else was destined to become the leader?

Well, it didn't matter now. He was Rodimus Prime, and he was the leader of the Autobots, he was their commander, the bearer of the Matrix, and the one Optimus knew would rise from the ashes of the Autobots and guide them into the Golden Age of Cybertron.

There was nothing he could do, and he stared at the distance between him and his friends. Oh, it was a figurative distance, this was true, but it was a distance all the same. They were all caught up in this war, not just him. How he wished they weren't though, so that he could return to joking with them, to laughing with them...

--

_"Come on Hotrod!" Arcee was laughing and excitedly pulling on his hands, and the red mech slowed down even more to annoy her. Springer was behind him, and pushed him forward roughly._

_"Keep moving, Hotrod! Just because you don't want to see Optimus Prime doesn't mean that the rest of us don't!" Springer pushed at him again, and the mech stumbled forward once more before breaking into a run. The three laughed and pushed each other around before reaching their destination. The main group of Autobot warriors were leaving, and everyone had decided to give them a proper send-off. The joyous occasion was overshadowed by a powerful air of sorrow, one that even the three younglings could feel._

_"Look, it's Prowl, and Jazz, and Ratchet!" the femme pointed excitedly, and Hotrod craned over her neck to see. There indeed were the second, third, and the CMO, and he let out a low sound-byte of appreciation._

_"Never mind that, look over here! It's Ironhide!" Springer pulled both of them over to look at the larger mech, and the two let out the sound-byte, awed. "I don't see Optimus anywhere, though," he remarked, leaning back on the entrance to the view. Hotrod found himself staring in appreciation, and was annoyed when Arcee tore his attention away with a startled little gasp._

_"Primus, they're here because they want to choose new recruits to go look for energy with them! But why is it just Prowl, Ironhide, Jazz, and Ratchet?" Arcee was confused, as were the rest of them. Below, the cheering of Autobots was nearing a frenzied level, and the three let their optics flick to the back._

_"Look!" Hotrod shouted, pointing to an emerging mech, Elita-One entwining her arm with his. "It has to Optimus!" his optics trained on the red and blues, and he was slightly awed. The Matrix-bearer had such a presence around him, such a magnetism, that Hotrod wished he had. It was then that the mech decided that Optimus Prime was his idol, and that he would try his hardest to live up to him._

_"Come on, Hotrod, stop gawking and let's go down!" Springer transformed, increasing his mass--even if they all knew that it was dangerous, and took eons off of their life-cycle--and invited his two friends in._

--

Why had that time been forced to disappear? It was a better time and definitely a more peaceful time, a time that Rodimus now wished could be replaced. It had been sweet, and it had all slipped away over the four million earth years. Cybertron had become a wreck, the worst place to live, and no one knew where anyone was anymore. Springer, Arcee, and he had all been ten vorns old, then. When they had been recruited, they had become forty-eight thousand and two-hundred three vorns old. They were still the youngest besides some of the other femmes, and it had been such an honor.

Still, the eons before that had been some of the hardest that any of them had faced. Low on energon and hunted by Shockwave and the whole Decepticon army. They had never faced something like that, and most likely never would again...

--

_"I'm tired of standing here and letting them beat us down!" Hotrod punched the wall, his optics bright with war-lust. Arcee and Springer were silent, the former shrinking further into the latter. They all knew how much this was grating on the young rookie, and how hard it was for all of them, but Hotrod knew they all wondered if he had lost his mainframe._

_He hadn't. He was just so tired of sitting here, of being forced to watch as good mechs and femmes deactivated daily, just because Shockwave was intent on purging the planet's surface of any and all Autobots. It was cruel, it was sparkless, and Hotrod was sick of it. It was nothing like his programming, and he did not, could not understand it._

_"Relax, kid," Kup stepped up, perhaps one of the only ones who could calm Hotrod down in this state, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get the slagger, alright? You just have to hold on a little longer..." the grey-green mech placed a hand on the youngling's shoulder, a spark of good humor trying to reach through. "You know, Hotrod, I've been in worse situations than this. You're too young to remember, but one time I--"_

_"I don't want to hear stories about the past, Kup!" Hotrod pulled away, his optics still bright and his battle computer still running at full capacity. He didn't want to hear about the past, he wanted to hear about the future. Everyone was staring at him with a mixture of pity and annoyance, and the red mech retreated to his own corner._

--

Rodimus Prime stood at the same entrance that he, Arcee, and Springer had stood at so long ago, staring down at the same place that he had first seen his commander. It was a memory that Hotrod had always held on to, even when he was in doubt, and it had fueled his passion to see the Decepticons destroyed for ruining this beautiful planet. Even now, human years later, they were still dealing with the destruction that the Decepticons had wrought.

/Destruction/. How many activations the Decepticons had taken with their lust for battle, a lust that Hotrod had shared. That they all had shared. Battle was built into their mainframes, and this new and fragile peace that the Autobots had won was won with the sacrifice that no one could see.

Optimus Prime. When he had deactivated, it had sparked a chain of events that had ended with the destruction of Unicron and the expelling of the leaderless Decepticons. The end of both factions was near, and he knew that. The Autobots... He could not lead them as Optimus Prime had, and Galvatron was gone.

The new Prime turned and moved deftly down the pathway, his optics tracing each and every panel. Cybertron was everyone's to share, and yet... The Decepticons would never agree, and he was the one who had to rule over it all. Sure, the planet was starting to live again, and they were starting to demilitarize, but it was going so slowly, and Rodimus knew that he wasn't the Prime to do this.

Yet the Matrix seemed to think so, and did think so, and had told him so...

--

_Everything was spinning. There were faces, faces of old Primes, of Primes yet to come, of mechs and femmes waiting to rejoin the active. He span right past all of them, until they all became one face: his own._

_It was a confusing affair, and it seemed to last an eternity, even if it only lasted for a few astroseconds out in the real world. Time was distorted here, and barely seemed to exist. The only thing that existed was the blue sphere in the middle, the crystalized spark fragment of Primus himself, given to those who he deemed to deserve it._

_Hotrod was blasted with the knowledge of everything, of everyone, and he could feel his mainframe scream in protest. No living mech could ever hold so much knowledge, and he expelled it constantly, trying to find a suitable balance. There was so much, and he could feel the information overriding Hotrod's memories, no matter how hard he held on to them._

_The Matrix was destroying Hotrod to make way for Rodimus Prime, and the red mech could do nothing but watch, helpless, as he dissolved and Rodimus Prime emerged. The information ceased, and the new Prime already knew that he had lost so much of it, and only had a fraction of what he had been given. Broken and hurt, the mech's conscious seemed to collapse down in front of that beautiful but destructive crystal. It was so beautiful, but so deceptive and so closed, that he could not help but loathe it even as he craved it._

_"You are the new Prime," it spoke with Optimus' voice, and Rodimus stared at it with both awe and fear, his spark pulsing at an unhealthy rate of acceleration. "You are the one that the Matrix chose to lead the Autobots into peace. You are the Prime of the tomorrow, of the Golden Age._

_"You alone can send the Decepticons out, and after that, you are the leader of the future, of the peace that we all envisioned. That is what the Matrix chose you for, and that is why you are among us today."_

_"But Optimus, all I am is fighting. How can I lead into peace?" Rodimus asked, broken and confused. This wasn't right, this wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to lead underneath all of his comments, deep down in his spark, but of course. He was young and foolish. There was no way that he could even try to be Optimus. Why was he a /peacetime/ leader?_

_"You are peace," Optimus' voice became stern, and Rodimus knew he could not fight it. "Arise, Rodimus Prime..."_

_"Optimus..."_

--

Now Rodimus was in the control room, where his second--Springer, for reasons that the Prime would always keep to himself, until his deactivation--and his third--Ultra Magnus, even if he loathed the mech for not being good enough to take away this burden. They were discussing something with him, something that he could not focus on, and in fact did not want to. It was probably some meaningless drivel on how well the demilitarization was going. That may have been important to the rightful Matrix bearer, to Optimus, but there was no way that Rodimus would ever be him.

Their earth designation had been chosen with care, even though no one thought that they would be allowed to stay long. Optimus Prime's designation had barely translated, so he had decided to look into older languages and had found his designation. Mechs like Jazz and Prowl had found it easy, and mechs like Sunstreaker and Ultra Magnus had actually found it hard. Hotrod had found it easy, and had used his designation with pride.

Rodimus, on the other hand, hated mechs and femmes saying his designation, for it was a constant reminder of just how pitiful he was. He remembered talking to a human linguist one day, for he had been waiting for Daniel to come out of an appointment. Wheelie had been busy, and so had Spike, so it had fallen to him to take the boy.

The ride had been uneasy on the way there, as both human and mech blamed Hotrod for the deactivation of Optimus Prime in their mutual childish blame game. It had been even more uneasy on the way back, for Rodimus Prime knew what his designation meant.

--

_"Rodimus Prime?" the human female seemed distressed, and a little pitying, and Rodimus was confused. Why was the female distressed? What had he done? Had he said something that was a human taboo? They were so hard to understand, these fragile beings, and he felt a bit of frustration._

_"Is there something wrong with my designation?" he asked politely, but a bit bitingly, as a few of the more sarcastic mechs in the army had taken to calling him 'not-Optimus'. He appeared to take it in stride, but it reality, it cut his spark to the quick. He knew he wasn't as good as Optimus, no matter what Kup or Ultra Magnus said, but did everyone really have to shove his face in the dirt over it?_

_"No, it... It's just that it means something that I never thought would be the name of a Prime..." the human sounded puzzled, and Rodimus' patience was wearing thin. What was that supposed to mean anyway? He may not have liked his designation, but it was what it was. Optimus Prime had given it to him. Primus had given it to him._

_Perhaps the human saw Rodimus shift his cab, or perhaps she just decided to stop taunting him and actually tell him what was going on, for she did finally look at him. "I'm sorry, but... Prime in our language means best."_

_"That's not bad..." Rodimus transformed and looked down at her, lowering his optic ridges at the female. She was nonplussed, but also a bit thrown off. Rodimus wondered if she was feeling the same presence he had the first time he had seen Optimus Prime and Elita-One._

_"But rodimus comes from an old human language called 'Latin'... It means corruptor. Your name... It means Corruptor of the Best..."_ she quickly fled, and Rodimus was left alone.

_--_

_Corruptor of the best. _How fitting that name was for him. He did corrupt Cybertron and the Autobots by trying to lead. He wasn't good enough for this... Why? Wy couldn't he be good enough for anything? For anyone?

"Rodimus sir?" Springer's voice finally broke through, and the commander looked down at him. The green triple-changer looked concerned, and Rodimus offered him a small smile.

"Yes?" he asked, ignoring the entrance of Arcee. Springer's optics were drawn to her, as most mechs were, and it tore at the mech. Arcee was beautiful, and she was the one that Rodimus would give his spark to, if he could. But ever since he had become Prime, she had been, well, unwilling. Withdrawn. Sullen. She had all but said that it was over and fell into his best friend's arms. Springer, his second, had everything that he wanted.

He could never hate Springer, but oh, how he envied him.

"Well, I was just saying that I wanted to request an orn off..." Springer asked politely, and his optics never met Rodimus'. Neither did Arcee's, and Rodimus felt his spark stop pulsing. That was...

He forced himself to smile, and nodded. "Alright then, the both of you. May Primus bless the bond," he turned away, forced himself to focus on what Ultra Magnus had to say, forced himself not to hear their laughter, forced himself not to wish Arcee would at least acknowledge their past relationship...

--

_Laughter filled the humid earth air as two cars raced along a dirt road, each trying to outdo the other. Hotrod won, of course, seeing as how he was a sports car. Arcee was graceful, of course, and could catch up if she really put her mind into the chase. Still, there was nothing better than him getting pounced by her after she raced up a breem or so later._

_"Hotrod..." she whispered, her lip components so close to his that it sent a thrill through his spark. He leaned up to capture them and silence any protest she might have had to say, but she stopped him by placing a long and slender finger against his own lip components. "What would you say if I told you that Optimus Prime's ship would be here by tomorrow?"_

_"I would say that you should just let me lock you in an energy burst," Hotrod growled playfully, pulling her head down. Her laugh and her smile made his spark ache, and he rolled with her in the sweet grass, even as the storm broke and rain covered them both, drowning out their desperate need for each other._

--

That need for her had never faded, and never would. He knew that it had transferred to Springer for her, and hated it. But he could never hate his friend, not in a million vorns. He turned and abruptly left Ultra Magnus, leaving the co-creation of Optimus Prime alone and stunned. He didn't want to hear it anymore, and he wouldn't hear it anymore.

He entered his private quarters, making sure that the lights remained off and the door remained closed. Then he took out the Matrix and stared at it for a long moment. It glistened innocently at him, and he made as if to throw it against the wall, to disown it and to shatter it. There was no such resolve in him, and no such luck, so he placed it back in. He was Rodimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, and he always would be.

Whether he wanted it, or not.


End file.
